


A Strange Grief

by translorastyrell (nerddowell)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 20:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21287909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerddowell/pseuds/translorastyrell
Summary: Title from Amanda Palmer'sVoicemail for Jill, which may well actually give away the theme of this fic.'Did you think I'd try and stop you?'Loras swallows, clasping his own hands in his lap and fidgeting with the hem of his jumper (borrowed from Renly, and therefore several sizes too large, to the point where he almost looks like he's drowning in soft forest green wool). He takes a long time before responding.'I wasn't sure.'
Relationships: Renly Baratheon/Loras Tyrell
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	A Strange Grief

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger warning:** unplanned/unwanted pregnancy, discussion of abortion
> 
> A note from myself: I have never undergone an abortion myself. I have considered it - very seriously - being in a similar position to Loras in this fic. I am, however, pro-choice. When I was in the situation where I may have undergone an abortion, ultimately I decided differently, and therefore am to be held entirely responsible if there are any glaring errors about the process of seeking an abortion or if there are any choices of words/opinions expressed in the below that make any readers uncomfortable.

The bedroom is cold - Renly's left the window cracked open again, and they've not yet sorted out the switchover of energy suppliers in the new place - and yet Loras wakes with a start, bathed in sweat. He's had the same dream again, Renly slamming the apartment door behind him with that terrible, awful finality as Loras, helpless, can do nothing but watch. He stares out of the window at the grey sky and panes spattered with raindrops through the gap in the blinds, hyperaware of his boyfriend's weight depressing the airbed mattress and the warmth of Renly's pale skin beside him. His hand goes unconsciously to the flat muscles of his abdomen; the second contact is made, he pulls it away as though burned, nausea making his stomach roll.

Loras tears his eyes away from the window, taking in the peacefully-sleeping form of his boyfriend next to him. The duvets are shoved down around Renly's waist, his broad chest and muscular arms exposed despite the chill in the air. Loras trails his fingers over Renly's collarbones, admiration warring with that ever-present twinge of jealousy as his eyes sweep over the smooth plain of Renly's torso. No scars from surgeries to mar the pale skin, just a smattering of freckles and a small patch of surprisingly fine dark hair between his pecs. Loras can never keep his hands off Renly's chest when they make love, and Renly's reactions tell him his adoring touches are enthusiastically welcomed.

He's been staring - staring and stroking - for several minutes too long when Renly's eyelids flutter open and a slow, sleepy smile that would ordinarily make Loras' knees weak spreads over his face. His voice is thick and muzzy with sleep when he mumbles 'Morning,' turning his head to kiss Loras' palm. Renly reaches for him to pull him down into a lazy embrace, and Loras stiffens. He can't help it.

'I need to go to the hospital,' he says woodenly, not meeting Renly's eyes. Immediately Renly is more awake, pushing himself up on one elbow to get a better look at him.

'The hospital? Why? Are you okay?'

'Obviously I'm not okay if I have to go to the fucking hospital,' Loras snaps, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around himself as a physical barrier and instead forcing them down by his sides, white-knuckling the edge of the mattress. Renly visibly bristles at the sharp tone, his brows knitting briefly as his jaw tics, but he takes a steadying breath before he speaks. He knows Loras' prickly temper well, after all; they've been together six years.

'Baby, what's wrong?' he asks gently. 'If I need to take you to the hospital, I want to at least know how bad it is.'

'It's bad,' Loras grits out, 'the worst. You couldn't - you wouldn't get it. But I have to go, and I have to go, like, _now_.'

Renly gazes at him for another minute, eyes soft and concerned, before he nods, making to get up. 'Let me just get dressed and grab the car keys?' he asks quietly, and Loras gives a jerky nod of consent. Loras himself seems to explode to his feet, grabbing yesterday's jeans and a random tshirt from the pile on their bedroom floor and yanking them on. His hands are shaking, his breathing worse, and he feels lightheaded. He can't think beyond the lingering panic of the dream, the tight knot in his gut and the fear like lead in his stomach that once Renly finds out, everything he'd dreamed would come true, the world crashing down around his ears.

Strong arms pull him in against Renly's chest, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, eyes prickling against his will. Renly's voice is low and soothing in his ear as he murmurs, 'Lor, tell me what's wrong. We can sort it out, whatever it is, I promise. It's alright, baby.'

That's it - the floodgates open - and Loras sags into Renly's arms like a ragdoll, chest heaving as though every tearing sob cracks his ribcage wide open.

'B-baby,' he splutters, digging his fingers into Renly's back as he balls his fists in the material of his tshirt, 'R-Ren, baby-'

'Ssh,' Renly murmurs, rubbing circles on his back. 'It's okay, it's alright. I'm here. What's the matter?'

'_Baby_,' Loras repeats, more forcefully now, and Renly frowns at him for a second before, like a lightning strike, comprehension dawns on his face.

'You're-' he swallows compulsively, then again, his cheeks pale. 'A baby. You're... you're p-'

'Don't say it,' Loras begs, shaking his head fiercely, curls flying around his face. 'Please, _please_, don't say it.'

'But you need to go to the hospital,' Renly says slowly, the only thing betraying his nerves a slight tremor Loras can feel against his own chest. 'We need to take you to hospital to - to sort it out.'

Loras can't bring himself to speak; he just nods silently, burying his face in his boyfriend's shoulder.

'Loras,' Renly says quietly, his arms tight around Loras' back, as steady as his voice is quavery, 'Loras, look at me. Is that what you want to do? Go to a doctor and - and stop it?'

Loras thinks back to the dream, to the heady and confusing mix of happiness and despair he had felt looking at Renly holding a baby of his own in his arms, playing with them at the park down the road, taking them to nursery. Renly, who has always wanted children, with a baby that was part him (the part Loras loved) and part Loras (the part Loras couldn't bear to think about). A child with Loras' curls and Renly's denim-blue eyes; Loras' dimples and Renly's freckles. The most beautiful child Loras had ever seen, and yet a vision that repelled him so forcefully he felt sick, like trying to force two magnets to meet at the same pole. A child he would have to carry and give birth to, a child on whose birth certificate he would always and irrevocably be listed as _mother_. He feels sick all over again, and again gives a slow nod.

Renly takes a deep, shaky breath, and runs his hand through Loras' tangled hair, smoothing the wild curls and teasing the knots out between gentle fingers.

'Well, then,' he murmurs, 'we'd better go.'

* * *

They leave the clinic hand-in-hand, Loras clutching a piece of paper detailing his appointment in the other. Renly is quiet as he leads the way back to where the car is parked, clicking the button to unlock the doors and opening the passenger side for Loras to get in before making his way to the driver's seat. Once they're inside, he puts the key in the ignition, but doesn't start the engine. Instead, he takes another deep, shaky breath before speaking. His voice is steady, but his hands - gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white and arms visibly trembling - are not.  
'Did you think I'd try and stop you?'

Loras swallows, clasping his own hands in his lap and fidgeting with the hem of his jumper (borrowed from Renly, and therefore several sizes too large, to the point where he almost looks like he's drowning in soft forest green wool). He takes a long time before responding.

'I wasn't sure.'

Renly nods jerkily, his eyes on a sycamore tree planted on the verge directly in front of their bay, dropping leaves in the breeze that drifted in lazy orange spirals onto the bonnet of their car. 'I wouldn't. It's not my decision to make.'

'It's partly your decision,' Loras argues. 'I mean, it's not - it's not all me, is it? It's part you, too.'

'It's a bunch of cells that has a randomly-decided combination of yours and my DNA, yeah,' Renly says, eyes flicking to Loras' face. 'But it's not my body. It's not me having to spend the nine months growing and supporting it, and then doing all the fun stuff getting it out again. It's not my decision, Loras. It's yours.'

'But that's the hard part,' Loras says quietly, so quietly he's not sure Renly can hear him - or if he even wants him to. 'It's part you. That's the part I don't want to get rid of.'

Renly makes a wounded noise deep in his throat, throwing back his head against the seat and blinking fiercely against the tears that immediately swim to the surface.

'I can understand that, I guess. If I had the opportunity to - to carry a bit of you with me all the time, I would. But I do, babe. And as much as it makes me sound like a guy standing outside a girl's bedroom with a boom box and a nauseating 80s ballad on cassette tape, I've got you in my heart. And that's enough for me.'

'But you love kids,' Loras bursts out, his voice wobbling. Tears are spilling down his cheeks, and he rubs them away with the cuff of Renly's sweater. 'You love kids. You always wanted them, I know you do, and you thought 'cause you were gay it'd never happen. And now it has, and I feel like - I feel like I'd be taking something away from you.'

'No,' Renly says firmly, shaking his head. He reaches over to open the glove box, pulling out a tissue and gently wiping away the wetness from Loras' cheeks. 'No, baby, you wouldn't. I do love kids, and I would have liked to have them myself if things had been different, but they're not and here we are. And you, you being okay and happy and safe with me, is a thousand, a _million_ times more important than that little bunch of cells. Your wellbeing is more important than an idle wish on my part, Loras.'

Loras can't speak, can't even breathe; he just launches himself across the car, half-sitting on the gearstick, to wrap himself in Renly's arms. His boyfriend holds him tight, reassuring and warm and uncaring that Loras is probably smearing tears and snot all over the shoulder of his favourite hoodie, before gently untangling himself to drive them home. Loras shifts back into his own seat, a weight off his shoulders, and when Renly reaches across to give his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling out of the bay, he shoots a tiny, grateful smile at him. Outside the car, the sun struggles out from behind the rainclouds, light weak and watery but hopeful.


End file.
